Inside
by DeadManSeven
Summary: A rather different (and dark) take on the self-instertion idea


All individuals portrayed in the following text, either real or fictional, have been used   
by my with no authorisation. So sue me.  
  
This is what I came up with when I was trying to think of a way to work myself into   
the Evangelion universe...I believe I envisioned something a hell of a lot better...and   
a hell of a lot weirder...  
  
  
  
Inside - Derek Zischke  
  
  
  
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I loaded up Word. 'Beyond' was already on the screen, waiting for any alteration or   
additions whim might force me to make on it. However, deep inside myself, I knew I   
wasn't going to get any work on it done tonight...I had other things to do.  
  
I set the font to Tahoma, 11 points high, and began to type...  
  
  
  
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Wolfpac: How old are you DM7? Because if you answer wrongly, you may not like   
me. :)  
  
DeadManSeven: 16...why?  
  
Wolfpac: Okay...your age fits. You can date Rei. I'm just against 14 yr old fanservice   
in general.  
  
DeadManSeven: I can? Woohoo! I mean, erm...uh...oh $hit. :)  
  
  
  
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'Not a word, Fuyutsuki. Not a word'  
  
The image of Gendo cleaning off his glasses in the men's room leapt into my mind,   
and I exploded with laughter in my seat.  
  
'Brilliant! Brilliant! "Not a word, Fuyutsuki..._not a word._" Genius!'  
  
After a few more giggles had subsided, I continued to scroll down to read   
Evanjellydonut 4.  
  
  
  
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Boredom, and an image of Rei in torn and faded jeans, had struck me as I read once   
more through the side-story to New Mynds. In the back of my head played the sex   
scene: the uncut version, one might say. I planned to write it down in full detail in   
the near future, making it my lemon fic and bringing my one fic closer to having   
written in every genre of Eva fanfiction around. In my mind, Shinji's hands caressed   
and kneaded the soft skin of Rei Ayanami, as he felt her breath heavily into his right   
ear. On the screen, Rei had just asked Shinji to make love to her.  
  
It was definitely time to sleep.  
  
  
  
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I lay awake in my bed, listening to the dual ticking of my alarm and wall clock. The   
small braid in my now-raven black hair lay across my face. I closed my eyes. I   
opened my eyes. I turned to my side. I closed my eyes again.  
  
This ritual repeated itself until I finally slept.  
  
  
  
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In my sleep, as many people do, I did dream.  
  
In my dream, as many people do, I relived the events that had played a major part   
in my mind over the past twelve hours.  
  
In my reliving, as many people do, it got very weird.  
  
  
  
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I stood in my living room, recognisable by the fell, or aura, of the room only, as   
describing it could only serve the purpose of proving I was not in my living room. I   
wore a white t-shirt and faded jeans, and would be able to recall when I woke up   
that I did not own a pair of faded jeans. An old flannel jacked was tied about my   
waist, and when I woke I would remember that I did not own one of those, either. I   
saw myself with blonde hair, which I had once owned for a significant portion of my   
life until I had dyed it roughly a month before my sixteenth birthday. I saw this   
image of myself grow larger and larger, until I was inside of it. Until I was it. Until I   
had become myself. The dream could now begin.  
  
  
  
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I stood opposite Rei Ayanami, wearing aforementioned torn and faded jeans. Her t-  
shirt was also white, and when I would pour the milk on my breakfast cereal the   
next morning, I would realise her attire mimicked mine. A pair of sunglasses with a   
holographic grinning skull embedding into the lenses sat on her head, propping up   
the light blue fringe that normally obscured her forehead. She carried a small black   
bag on a long drawstring (a chibi-handbag, my mind called it) around her shoulder.   
The image of (Jimi Hendrix? Bob Marley?) was printed on the material on the front. I   
recognised it at once. My ex-girlfriend had a bag like that...no, my ex-girlfriend   
owned that bag.  
  
Standing next to Rei was a character that only really existed in my mind: Satoshi. My   
own creation, formed to be Rei Ayanami's first date in my continuation fic, 'Beyond'.   
He towered over Rei, coming at least a head hight higher than myself. He had his   
arm around Rei's shoulder, and Rei had her arm around his waist. He too was   
wearing the customary white t-shirt and faded jeans.  
  
They both smiled at me, and then sat down on the couch that sat in front of the   
large window in my living room. I found myself sitting also, on the edge of my seat   
and leaning forward, complete opposite to how I normally would sit. I noticed that   
Rei and Satoshi had formed the image I had always conjured up when writing scenes   
between her and Shinji for 'New Mynds': Rei resting her head against Satoshi's chest,   
her legs up on the couch, her hand placed across Satoshi's waist, being overlapped   
by Satoshi's own. All of my mind's focus was suddenly placed on Rei, as she was   
about to speak.  
  
This was going to be strange, indeed.  
  
  
  
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Rei: What is it you want to do with your life?  
  
Derek: I want to succeed.  
  
Rei: How?  
  
Derek: I don't know.  
  
Rei: In what area?  
  
Derek: In my life.  
  
Satoshi: Doesn't this seem al little familiar to you?  
  
Rei: This is what you have recited for the past six months about that question.   
However, you still are struggling to find a decent answer.  
  
Derek: Why do I need a decent answer? Haven't I been told that I'm not supposed   
to know what I want to do with my life yet?  
  
Rei: That is correct. However, it is not something that you believe.  
  
Derek: So what are you here for? To tell me something that isn't even embedded   
deeply into my subconscious?  
  
Satoshi: No.  
  
Rei: I am here to tell you what you should not be spending your life doing.  
  
Derek: What is that?  
  
Rei: Wasting your life.  
  
Derek: What?  
  
Rei: The pursuit of fanfiction is one that is wasteful. This is, however, what you took   
up in favour of you schooling during all of last year.  
  
Satoshi: It is work that you do not own. It can only be an aide to yourself and others   
around you. It is insignificant to what you perceive matters.  
  
Rei: You are beginning to act as you did before. Do you hate the world?  
  
Derek: No.  
  
Rei: Do you hate yourself?  
  
Derek: No.  
  
Rei: Do you hate your destiny?  
  
Derek: No.  
  
Rei: Do you hate everything around you?  
  
Derek: No!  
  
Rei: You can only lie to one person here: yourself.  
  
Derek: So what's wrong with lying? If I can fool myself to stop my pain, what's   
wrong with that?  
  
Rei: There is nothing wrong with it. However, it will not stop your pain. It will only   
make the pain you do get to feel scar much deeper.  
  
  
  
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An old idea for a fanfic is re-enacted in my dream. Everything fades out of my view,   
and I am surrounded by darkness. This is Instrumentality. This is _my_   
Instrumentality.  
  
  
  
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'Why do you write Eva?'  
  
'Because I am told to.'  
  
'This is not why you pilot. This is the result of the actions of other. What satisfaction   
do you gain from writing?'  
  
'If I can write well...I will be praised by those who tell me to write.'  
  
'What good is praise? The distance between these moments of hollow appreciation is   
far. Do you plan to digest and regurgitate those criticisms you have received for the   
rest of your life?'  
  
'Praise...praise is all I have.'  
  
  
  
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I blinked my eyes in the darkness. All of my senses were now active in the silence of   
my room. My hand rose to the corner of my eye. I felt moisture. I had shed tears in   
my sleep.  
  
  
  
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The next day, I stared vacantly into space for five minuted during my History class.   
No teacher was present. The page before me was blank. In my right hand I held a   
green pen.  
  
A moment of inspiration hit me, and I began to write down the next scene for   
'Beyond'. After the scene was written down, I would turn to a fresh page, and while   
humming 'Wasting My Hate', I would write down a quick poem about the hate in my   
life.  
  
  
  
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'There.' I remarked to my computer. 'That's that out of the way.'  
  
I saved my document, and after a few minuted worth of editing, I had a version in   
text format ready to be uploaded to fanfiction.net. As I typed out the description   
during an advertisement break in the Sunday movie, Metallica's song of suicide 'Fade   
To Black' played in the background.  
  
  
  
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I shut off my computer. The Sunday night movie was over.  
  
I lay down in my bed.  
  
  
  
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I lay awake in my bed, listening to the dual ticking of my alarm and wall clock. The   
small braid in my now-raven black hair lay across my face. I closed my eyes. I   
opened my eyes. I turned to my side. I closed my eyes again.  
  
This ritual repeated itself until I finally slept.  
  
  
  
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Derek Zischke  
  
ageless_strange@optusnet.com.au  
  
Zischke In The Jar Productions, 2000-07-23 (c)  
  
  
  
"Do you suffer from long-term memory loss? I can't remember..."  
  
-Chumbawamba  
  
  



End file.
